As the spiral of time unwinds and
We reach the inner tightness,

As the tension increases and
The spin speeds up to meet this,

What we experience
Is the physics
Of the quickening.

From within this simultaneously
Terrifying and sacred chaos,
I emanate.

I know my sovereignty.

Let history belittle me,
Label me disobedient,
I place this designation
As a jewel in my coronation.

I’m not one to listen in
To the pitiful whimper
Of egotism,
Thus missing
The whisper of divinity.

This is my resistance
My defiance,
My refused compliance.

Know this:
There are definite limits
To what the laws of man can accomplish.

They can demand my degradation,
Murder me,
Make a monster of me,
But they are powerless
To legislate my soul’s autonomy.

The secret to freedom
Is realizing there is no approval to seek
From within an infrastructure
That is—at best—complicit in your utter destruction.

My crime?
Unwillingness to be paraded around naked
In only my crown,
Unwillingness to be a trophy,
A puppet,
A pawn.

My crime?
I’d rather be having my own ingathering
Than awaiting an engraved invitation
To objectification.

My crime?
Honoring my majesty.

Sisters, we are in the midst of
Massive metamorphosis.

Transformation, by nature, is
Inherently treacherous,
But this does not permit us
To remain in stasis.

Before this dissolution could even begin,
Our imaginal cells were whispered
Into new manifestations of existence,
Nascent potential awakened.

We are the budding of new wings.
We are the opening.
We are the infinite unfolding.
We are bravely entering the space of not-knowing.

We have faith in
What awaits us
In the liminal spaces
Beyond the reach of
Intellectual limitations.

We are reawakening
In the garden,
In the season of our sweetness,
Completing our receiving,
In a state of love so deep,
We soar
In awe.